The Miracle {Dunkirk}

CH.1

My name is Bailey Middleton. My father, Benjamin Middleton, had been called into battle. He was to stand by Commander Bolton and help get men off of Dunkirk beach. He was an Officer.

My mother, Bridget Middleton, was a nurse. Before she was called into battle, she taught me everything she knew. I knew medicine was my passion and I was glad to have a teacher like her. Unfortunately, she died only two weeks ago. Her death left my father and I devastated.

So, when my father was called to Dunkirk, I of course went along with him. Although he was pleading with me to stay home in Dover, England, I knew I belonged out in battle, continuing the role that my mother had sadly left.

~*~*~*~

On our way to Dunkirk, I had changed into a men's medical outfit and pulled a pair of boots onto my feet. I knew I would have a lot of running to do. I put my ginger hair into a lose bun and tucked away any stray pieces behind my ears. We arrived at the makeshift dock that extended out from the beach. The grey sky above was filled with smoke. The waters below were rough and the waves were choppy. On the beach, thousands of men were lined up in almost single file, in several different lines. My father escorted me off of our transfer boat and onto the dock where even more men were lined up further down.

"I'll be here with Commander Bolton if you need me. Please Bailey, be careful." My father instructed.

I nodded. "I will. I promise."

With that, I ran down the dock, shoving my way past all of the men that lined the sides. Eventually, I was through the crowd of English men and entered the crowd of French men.

I made it off of the dock and onto the beach, where I saw British medical soldiers carrying out stretchers from the town. I darted over to them, eager to provide my assistance.

"Head into town girl. There's many more in there." One of the men said.

I sighed at his use of the word 'girl' but continued into the town. I silently made my way down the cobblestone streets, hearing faint gunshots in the distance. Outside of a building, I found a soldier laying on the ground, barely breathing.

"Help me." He whispered.

"What's your name sir?" I asked him, smiling and applying pressure to a wound that I found on his stomach.

"Bentley. Charles Bentley." He croaked.

I reached into the satchel I had and grabbed a small bottle of morphine and a needle.

"What a lovely name you have, Charles. My name is Bailey. I'm going to get you home okay?" I told him.

He smiled. "Okay."

I put some morphine into the needle and injected him with it. "Do you feel a little bit better?"

"Y-yes. Yes I do Bailey." He replied. "You're a very pretty nurse."

I blushed. "Why, thank you."

I looked away from him to put the morphine back and grab bandages. Once I looked back at him he was staring up at the sky. It had just hit me what had happened, and I placed two fingers under his chin to feel for a pulse. I felt nothing. His heart had stopped. Charles Bentley was dead.

I reached over him and closed his eyelids. Standing up, I put the bandages back in my satchel and began walking further into the French town. Suddenly, there were gunshots very close to me and I turned around to run back towards the beach.

I heard a loud bang and the sound of a whizzing bullet just missed my ear. In a swift movement, someone had grabbed my arm and pulled me into an opening between two buildings.

The person who dragged me to the side moved me up against the wall of the building and placed his hand over my mouth.

He quickly looked out onto the street as more gunshots were being fired. He removed his hand and went onto the street.

"English, English!" He yelled.

The gunshots stopped. "Désolé monsieur!"

The young soldier once again made his way over to me and looked into my eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

I nodded my head. "My name's Middleton. Bailey Middleton."

"Tommy." He replied. "Pleasure to meet you."

"And you as well. Thanks for saving me." I said.

He smiled. "No problem. You're a nurse, we need girls like you around."

I blushed at his comment. "Shall we head back to the beach?"

"I think that would be wise." He answered.

We continued through the French town and finally reached the edge where the beach started. There, we found a soldier lying on the ground. I kneeled down beside him and gave him morphine. I noticed that he was bleeding from his head, so I pulled out some bandages and began wrapping his head up.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"Ronald." He replied. "Ronald Ainsworth."

"Well Ronald, you're very brave. I promise I will get you home today." I said as I continued wrapping his head.

Another young soldier approached us, carrying a stretcher. He placed it on the ground by Ronald.

"Thank you." I commented. He just nodded in response.

Tommy helped me lift the wounded Ronald onto the stretcher. Him and the other young soldier lifted it and started scurrying over to the dock. I kept pace with them and tended to the other wounds that Ronald had as we ran.

"Everyone move! We have a stretcher!" I yelled to get the attention of both the English and French soldiers that lined the dock.

Every man on the dock parted to the sides as Tommy, the other soldier, and I hurried with Ronald down the dock. We needed to get him on the medical boat that was at the end of the dock.

The boat honked its horn, and I thought that we would not make it.